Category Archives: philosophy/mysticism

The Nut Never falls very Far…?

I find that I hear that expression or some variation to it quite often.  Nut, apple or Hand grenade it doesn’t really matter the idea is that it never falls far from the tree. the family tree in this case.  I was born in the last year of the Baby boom, 1964 and I am aware that there are some out there whom feel that we boomers have had it way too easy and maybe they are right. But of course I am not a millennial or a gen X er so when I look back I think about my mother and father and even my grand parents. My grandparents where grown during WWII and I even had an great Uncle that served in the pacific theater. My Mom was a college graduate and my old man served in peace time in the navy among other things and eventually settled in a fat factory job in my home town. To hear Dad or my Maternal Grandfather talk about it, it all came down to planning and scrimping and saving and working hard.

I worked hard, I scrimped, I planned, how come none of my aspirations came true? Why was I unable to accomplish the simple goals I had set out for myself such as graduate college, work for a short time in the field and then return for a higher degree? Maybe none of this was a question of my bad luck or lack of effort, maybe it was a question of their good luck and lack of effort. It is even possible to admit that with all the effort in the world some has to be said for timing, luck. Nothing is accomplished in the American sense through just hard work.

None of this is really here of there, its just a way to get across just how far a skew my life’s journey has gone. Some times I even wonder if all those people from those not so distant years ago were even real. That instead they might be some figment of my baffled brain. That’s just the way it feels until I hear their voices squeak out from between my lips. For some time I used the word Evidently in stead of “I think so,” and would while on kitchen duty, swamped with complaints about how terrible the food I had prepared was I would hear my self make a noise my maternal grandmother would make under the same circumstances. I found it a bit unsettling at first just how foreign these sounds and words, uttered by my own mouth, sounded. It was as if My grandmother were speaking to me from beyond the grave through my own memories. I hum when I eat, a habit I am trying to break, like my Maternal grandfather did years ago. It was at his knee that I learned what I know about the investment markets before I even started High school. I can feel his influence in the way I think about the world and in the manner in which I assess risk. My father taught me about the importance of PRESENCE as that was his game. The ability to intimidate simple by the way you stood, where you put your hands and when the chips are done, nothing sends shivers down there spine as fast as a nice toothy smile. I learned the reverse as well, how not to intimidate, how to appear safe or harmless and most importantly how to assess who represented what level of danger when I was walking on the streets. My Mother was an intellectual snob with a gift for sarcasm, this I inherited from her and there are I times when I find myself repeated some thing she said over three decades ago verbatim , or so it seems…

The strange thing to me is that they are all dead, so in some way people really do live on not just n the memory of others but in their very personalities.  I sometimes wonder what remnants have been passed to me from the distant past from people unknown to any involved. the pieces of themselves handed down by the unsuspecting.  How much of me is in the strictest sense, is actually me and not someone else transplanted.  This is a question that is impossible to answer.  “To Thy Own self be true,” is a famous quote from Shakespeare.  That’s how I remember it but hell I could be wrong.  I’m pulling this stuff out of my ass after all and I could be mistaken.  It leaves an unsettling question which is, how can you be true to yourself if you do not know yourself?  I have spent a great deal of time an effort, through meditation and simple introspection trying to understand myself, know myself and it has become apparent to me that there will always be parts of me that I will never know.  This is painfully obvious when someone points out a quirk of my behavior that I was previously unaware of, this I appreciated.  Whether one finds such a thing ,an event, that they appreciate or that they find irritating is dependent on the personalities involved.   Meta, my wife, is a person I wanted to get to know well.  She has been a project of mine, to know her moods, to grasp when there is something bothering her that she needs to speak about but maybe feels that she cannot.  If there are aspects of myself I cannot know then how much of her can I truly know?  There must be aspects to her self that are hidden from me.  This is a profound truth that everyone needs to grasp.

There is a point to this, I think.

We had been married for some few years and one of the hobbies we both enjoyed was and is camping.  At this time I can’t say exactly when this event happened.  There were others but this was the most profound and crisp as it was the first.  We were camping at a place called Hearts Content in the Allegheny’s.  I remember it because over the first night we were there, in early summer, a strange crop of fungus had popped up all around our campsite.  I believe that these strange little critters were fungus but I wouldn’t bet on it.  I want to say that they came up over night but maybe they were there the first day and we just didn’t “see” them.  At any rate we had taken and interest in these strange pale pink little life forms and were walking out farther in the brush in out effort to survey them.  We were talking about something that escapes my recollection.  I remember looking at her.  She was looking back at me.  She was smiling.  It was the strangest thing.  I am a schizophrenic and I have become accustom to strange visual effects but this was most peculiar.   She had become two dimensional in a surreal sense, still in color but yet foreign.  I was struck by the fact that I knew nothing about the woman that I had been married to for, by that time three or four years.  She was a stranger.  I remember asking her, pointing my finger from she to me, “Were Married?  That’s right isn’t it?”

She said yes.

I explained that I had just had the intense experience that she was unknown to me.  She told me to just let it slid.  She had the same experience on occasion when she looked at me.  We both agreed that it was an uncomfortable feeling.

In the end you can’t truly know anyone.  Knowing is a work in progress, it never ends.  We are finally confronted with the odd fact that it is impossible to eliminate risk in our personal relationships.  We will lose those we love, we will be betrayed and we will betray.  All we have left is to simply trust.  It is on trusting where the greatest threat, the most dangerous risk lies.  But in the en d we must take that risk if we want to live a meaningful life.

Be Blessed in all things

Desiderata

This has gotten me through some bleak and dark times. I am under the impression that others are now or are about to face times like these themselves on a scale that I don’t believe we have seen in some time, more than my life time.  Kt isn’t the end of the world but we all need something at times like these.  With this in mind I leave this prayer, though it can be used for reflection, an affirmation or m meditation.  I hope it helps yo9u as much as it did me.

 

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there maybe in silence.  As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.  Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.  If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; dor always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.  Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.  Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.  But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.  Especially, do not feign affection.  Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.  Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.  But do not distress yourself with imaginings.  Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.  Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and he stars; you have a right to be here.  And whether or not it is clear to you, there is no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.  Be cheerful.  Strive to be happy.

 

 

I have no idea who originated this prayer and I believe that it is public domain.  It it is not I apologize.

 

In all things, be blessed.

Understanding Power Part II

I tend to think of Part I as Simple power while Part II deals more with complex power.

Before I continue I wold once again like to state that I believe that every human being has the right to defend themselves.  It should be understood that some believe that a good offense is the best defense but the moment that one makes the argument for any form of preemption in the name of self defense that one should always suspect that it is, in reality, an argument for aggression.

Complex power, for the sake of thus discussion is dependent on developed societies in order to exist.  Developed societies is a polite way of saying civilized.  Civilized societies have institutionalized structures, the peculiarity of division of labor and more often than not hierarchical leadership structures.  These concepts are all part of the discipline of sociology a part of academia I sort of backed my way into in an informal sense.  The first limitation I wish to place on this form of moderate power is that it is an aspect of social systems whose reach could be the size of a county, a township, a municipality,. a state or providence, a medium sized corporation, a small religious tradition or even a small country.  The key in understanding scale is firstly realizing that these entities have little or no ability to project power much beyond the region in which they dwell.  This inability to project power and the small scale of this tier of power allows the people who both compose the organs of the system or systems as well as the individuals that cohabit with the system to know each other or at least have the possibility of knowing each other.

Television, mass media and yes, even the internet create the illusion of knowing another person but that is not the same, for the sake of this discussion, of knowing a person in the sense of sharing any given three dimensional space.  The holders of power and the rest of the population can actual be on good speaking terms, go to each others birthday parties, visit each other when they are sick and attend functions both social, educational or managerial.  This is an effort to get across the scale of these intermediate systems.  Let it be understood that just because you can or the possibility exists to share 3D space with a person doesn’t mean that you do, only the possibility must exist in a probable and realistic manner for it to qualify.

Also in the realm of intermediate power there is at least the illusion of accountability for those who hold said power’s actions.  What this means is that if a person who holds a position of power commits a crime in the codified sense then there are criminal consequences or at the very least the illusion of consequences.  This means a trial and the possibility of prison just like those of us who live around, under or work with in said system.  What is important here is that the illusion of consequences be realistic so that it could be said that on occasion some one has to pay the piper as it were.

So what are the prerequisites to hold said power?

Power can be obtained several ways,  it could be a question of status of family, by election of your peers,by accreditation and possible do to personality and appearance (Charisma).

Here are a few quick illustrations.

Family Status is usually connected to both wealth and influence.  Those two things, wealth an d influence, regardless of the nation state or region you might examine, seem universal.  The was a gentleman, who had recently passed beyond the veil, that I had become familiar with through the local historical society.  His family was long established in my community and still held some considerable capital though not as much as they had in the past.  He worked as a middle school  principal.  He was always being quoted in the paper as though his thoughts on our little community had any real relevance and he traveled to Washington D.C.  once a month for some sort of a panel at the capital.  This was mentioned as an aside and I didn’t pry.  There is no doubt that he had much experience that would have been valuable to any inquiry specifically round the topic of education.  I am also certain that most people who have been seriously involved in education for any reasonable length of time would also have ideas and experiences that would be equally valuable.  I was left wondering why the preference?

My grandfather was also a school teacher and a high school coach, basket ball, Football and base ball.  His power came from accreditation as he was the first person in the state of Ohio to earn a masters degree in education.  He also had a gift for turning some coin in the world of investing so he was something of a self made man.  He too held a great deal of sway in my small city.  He could get people, especially minors out of jail on his word alone.  He had the ear of judges, lawyers, doctors, members of law enforcement, school teachers and even people in the government at the state level.  This power was able to change someone in my locality circumstances when it came to their status with the various systems that govern the world in which I lived.  He also held elected office in my small city.

And we must not forget Doctors, They have power too. They have the power to not take you as a patient.  If you should pass from inability to receive medical care they will not be held liable in any way though they may be held liable in the case of malpractice thus the illusion of consequences.  People will talk about health care reform (Health Care affordability and Portability Act) as though it has revolutionized access to medical services.  Down here where I live and most of my friends live the system has some serious kinks to be worked out.  People are having a harder time finding the kind and quality of care that they could before the Acts passage.  I have no idea what it is like in the big cities, I can only speak of the few cases of which I am aware.  This aside, I know of three cases where a Doctor decided they weren’t going to see a patient any more.  They did not state a reason why and continued to practice in the local community.  My point of view on this may seem a bit harsh and in all honestly I don’t care whether doctors only treat people that can afford their services and the rest be damned.  I am simply using it as an illustration of power.  Meta and I have debated whether or not the Hippocratic oath is still taken when doctors finish their education.  She feels that it is not, I feel that it is but it is nothing more than smoke and it been like that for a long time.

Then there is all that chatter over law enforcement with in the realm of police brutality.  I am mixed on this but for the sake of this conversation, if a person, due to the position they hold, can cripple or kill another human being under circumstances other  than self defense then what we are seeing is an example of power.  There are occasions when charges are brought against police officers for  improper use of force which creates the realistic illusion of accountability.

I’m sure that you can come with examples better than mine.  In any case, for what ever it was worth, i hope this was worth the time you spent reading it.

Understanding Power Part I

Before I Begin I want to say that I believe that every human being has the right to self defense.  Self Defense, in my view, does not include preemption.  You or I do not have the right to attack some one or aggressively defend ourselves against the notion of a potential threat.  This aggressive form of self defense also know as preemption isn’t really self defense.  Its aggression, its an attack, we would be going on the offensive.  We can’t just run around attacking people because we don’t like the way they look, that they make us nervous, have different beliefs or look at us funny.

None the Less I support an individual or a populations right to defend themselves by any means once they are under attack, once the lead starts flying as it were.

This is about understanding power and this first installment is about simple power.  I began this post with the statement that I believe in a person’s right to self defense because to a considerable extent simple power deals with the second amendment.  I am 51 years of age and the debate around the second amendment, gun control, has been going on as long as I can remember.  People older than me yet remember this debate as a sort of a back ground noise of their life.  First I’d like to admit that I support the second amendment.  This of course has caused me some concern as I have listened to the last round of debate on the issue of gun control.  It seems to me that the bulk of the people supporting the amendment and resisting any form of gun control make all gun control advocates look like lunatics.  There has been this phrase I have been hearing, now it may have been said in the past and often but this is the first time that I have heard it, and that phrase is “Gun Culture.”

What the Fuck does “Gun Culture” mean?  When I hear the term used, whether the speaker is a citizen of our fair country or a foreign devil, it sounds like some kind of a slam, an insult.  I really had to think on the term for a while to try and get a handle on it.  The internet as a tool for enlightenment was useless in this endeavor and there was no hard copy dictionary definition.  It was frustrating and annoying, all those grinning jar headed, glassy eyed, slack jawed idiots grinning and muttering the word “gun culture” left me with the same putrid feeling as some other pudding for brains, soft bottomed, over privileged turd using the term “White Culture.”

What were these phrases?  Where they some kind of a code, an inside joke, or the result of a group of demographers with a few carefully selected focus groups and their careful search for a phrase that would have some desired effect even though it didn’t actually mean anything?  The thing was, though it kept nagging at me something terrible, that the phrase “Gun Culture” does mean something.  We need to come to grips with the fact that if the citizenry of the United States did not possess military grade firearms in the distant past then our country would, in all likelihood, bear little resemblance to what it is today.  The destruction of the Native population, Genocide if you will, would have been impossible with out an armed citizenry.  The institution of Slavery, which went a long way to making the U.S. a rich country as only free labor can, also would have been impossible with out an armed citizenry.  I realize that these ideas may make people uncomfortable or uneasy but to say otherwise would be grossly unfair and dishonest.

The U.S. expansion into South and Central America after the Spanish American war, our participation in WW I and WW II would have been far less spectacular without a populous that was familiar with the use of fire arms.  Just imagine how quickly forces could be mobilized and fielded when the population already know how to use a gun then when they have to be trained from scratch.  Then of course there is F.D.R and the great depression.  Doctor Richard Wolf has a very interesting interpretation of Roosevelt’s New Deal policies and why they occurred.  It seems that the depression had brought our fair nation to the brink of civil war.  Back then not only where we armed we were also organized.  That’s a damn scary combination.  There were labor unions, political parties, progressives, Communists, Socialists, Antichrists and they shared members, meaning one person could be a member of more than on group union or party.  So when we retell the tale we simple talk about what a Commie FDR was because we most certainly don’t want to encourage the population of our fine nation to organize for a better life.  Maybe these kind of ideas are what is meant by the phrase “Gun Culture.”

In the past these far Left organizations use to scare the shit out of the government but decades of propaganda appealing to individual enrichment and anti union sediment have left our country with out a left wing any longer.  Now the concern is the far right, The Militia, Radical Religious Groups. and Anti Governmental organizations.  When I hear the media discuss these groups, which is rare since I don”t get cable in my home, they fix their side of the argument around the criminal threat and the threat of Terrorism if they are in favor of gun control and if they are against Gun Control them the argument revolves around protecting national sovereignty, defending our boarders (Illegal immigration) and being able to resist the government if it should get to big for its britches.  Then of course there are all the conspiracy theories around the NWO, Agenda 21, Chemtrails, death camps and the coming economic collapse and lets not forget about the Apocalypse although I am not sure what good guns will do a person if the world is ending.  At some point, when the debate turns serious it becomes simply, gun control prevents crime versus an armed citizenry prevents crime.  This is known as framing the argument.  Setting the terms of the debate so that no concept out side of the accepted spectrum of conversation can be discussed.  What is it they don’t really want to talk about?

The more I think about it the more its seems to be true.  What is it that guns represent to most people?  IN the simplest term guns, rifles or pistols represent power.  A firearm is the simplest form of power that any person can grasp.  It is power over your own life, power over other peoples lives, it is your independence and it is your ability to affect your world if you should feel the need.  We in the United States are an Nation of individuals so we lack the large organizations that other developed or Western nations have to affect change in their countries, all we have is fire arms.  It was while I sitting and thinking about this that I realized another very powerful tool we littel people have at our disposal.  That other powerful tool is the ability to say NO.  It is true that first few of us who say NO may pay with our lives.  It is also true that it is hard to say NO, especially to something or someone you care about.   Maybe it is just easier to pop a couple rounds off into a crowd.  Remember that the next time you decide to, or see footage of, somebody walking down the street with an AR 15 over their shoulder to protest for their right to bear arms.  I guess in the end its a lot easier for us to kill each other then it is to negotiate or organize or to simply say NO and stop participating.  Remember this the next time you witness a debate, whether in person or on television, as the discussion devolves into some ridiculous sensationalist piece of political theater that turns your stomach, because it should.

Those jar headed grinning idiots are trying to marginalize the whole of us because what the debate is about is power and taking away yours.  If you can’t own a fire arm legally, a weapon competitive with military hard ware, you can’t work up the courage to say NO and you refuse to organize, Well, what are you gonna do?  Where will you find your power?

Voices of the Dead

Its been a while since my last post, things of the end of summer and through the fall were just a bit out of hand and mind but I will save that for another time.

Please accept my apologies.

This early dark season festival many neopagans call Yule is a very important time for me.  This year I felt far from the advertised commercial feelings of the season and had come to a rest, as in a body at rest or in motion will resist any change to its state.  I hope I wasn’t too hard on Meta with my bah humbug and general blah sentiment.  I refer to it as melancholic as a way of differentiating it from out right depression.

I should be careful before I find myself babbling endlessly.

Any way, for me, in no way am I saying that any one else should see or relate to this season in a similar way,again, for me this is a time to reflect on all those that have come before, the family of my memory, and it is also a time to look forward.  The whole thing has a strange quiet soberness to it and this Christmas/Yule here in the north of Ohio where the cold chill freezes breezes sound from the air, or at least this seems the case.  You know its cold when you don’t here any gunshots.

My past, the time before the time now, the time when I still possessed a great hope and powerful will and had submitted to the great beliefs of our land.  These are memories of a first life, though I breathe the air with the same lungs now as I had then, or felt the rain with same skin now as then.  It was a time when I operated under the delusion that I was sane.  Now it feels still like I live a different life.  My mother bought this massive old Victorian house, a monstrosity, or white elephant as she liked to call it.  After two years of working on renovations we had began to have big thanksgiving gatherings.  Aunts Uncles, cousins, friends of the family so that there would be over twenty people in the large dining room most seated around that odd table that could be pulled to extend its length.  I’ve probably written about this event previously I honestly can’t remember.  Its Yule/Christmas/Chaunnika/Kwanza holidaze at the very beginning of the freezin’ season when I most dwell in those places in my memory where all those people still live.  Many are dead, the rest have moved far either to get away from members of the family that spooked them or to find better opportunities.  It matters not.

It is in this process of recollection that I feel those moments, moments that I know can never be recreated.  I know this is impossible yet I feel the need just like a chance meeting near a fairy circle.  Once you been in that space, if you are well wise, the memories are such that you desperately want to live them again even though it is very unlikely.  Fairies are capricious to say the least and rarely show favor to even the most friendly to their point of view more than once.  It is that which those old memories most remind me.  Images of grand parties like faerie lights or the wisps faint and odd in the distance.  It takes an effort to overcome the tendency to pick and choose the qualities we wish to remember.  A fair recollection is the most honest one you can keep.  Now that Dad had passed last year or the year before just a few days after his birthday I have no one left that remembers anything much about those times.

If I wasn’t all ready crazy I’d probably really feel like I was loosing my mind. As 99% of the memories I have worked so hard to keep have no counter point anywhere in the family.  I tell stories and no one recalls, no one remembers, no one cares.  I could be paranoid about the whole thing but I choose not.  Instead I choose, too much beer and drugs under their respective bridges or they simply forgot.  Through disinterest or as a way of avoiding emotional pain they simply let those events slide from the bright light of their mind’s eye and into the shadow.

Memory is like a garden, it has to be worked, cultivated and fed if you want it to be healthy and productive.

WHEN THE DEAD SPEAK,

IT’S VOICE IS LIKE THUNDER,

IT’S WORDS AND MESSAGES CREEP,

FROM PROFOUND SILENCES.

AND PLACES STRANGEST.

This fragment of a poem came out of this melancholic haze from that longest night of the year as I sat with my brother drinking beer and reflecting remembering and discussing our plans for the new year 2014.  It was then that the two times the dead left me a message seemed most profound.  In a surreal way they spoke directly to me through some sort of intermediary.  I do not necessarily attach any type of supernatural element to these messages.  Anyone may do so if they wish, but to my mind they found a most mundane path to deliver these messages to me.

The first incident was rooted during the time of my mothers wake and her burial.  She died in 1988 on the 2nd of december and was buried on the 6th, what was once known as Saint Nicholas day, her favorite feast on the catholic calendar other than the major catholic holidays.  I touched on this story in my work Living Inside schizophrenia which I as of yet have not gotten published.  My brother, this would be brother number three, my fourth brother had not as of yet became part of the family, was dating a young lady at that time.  She was very close to my whole family and went by the nickname Kimmie.  The Nickname Kimmie was given to her by my great aunt Ruth who has now for several years rested in the cold hard ground.  Apparently my mother and Kimmie had talked quite a bit, unbeknownst to me.  I lived in a different city at that tine and was desperately trying to scratch out some kind of an income from the world of minimum wage labor.  The university and I had decided to part ways, mostly it was the university’s decision.  This was my great failure in my own assessment.  It was my shame.  I quickly found work at a local fast food restaurant.  I had enough education that if I was honest on my applications for work then I was also over qualified for any better job.  Deception was never a preference of mine.

It was after the wake had ended and we all headed back to where ever we came from that my good friend Midnight Angel, a platonic friend, relayed this message to me.  She and Kimmie had spent some time on the side lines talking privately between themselves.  Kimmie stated that my mother had told her this: “At the time I washed out of college.  Went then and found a job and found an apartment and began to support myself she (My mother) had stopped worrying about me.  She was certain that I would be able to take care of myself.”

This could easily be considered hearsay.  Just as easily one might consider it as a made up thing simple stated to easy my strange grief.  I accepted the statement with the understanding that either of these may be true just as the message may have been accurate and true in its own right.  It didn’t seem really to matter as the message had little hard effect on me but yet I did manage to remember it.  It was a thing that held a great fascination for me.

The second case though is a bit stranger.  Meta, my wife, was doing research on her family history making use primarily of local resources.  One of these resources was the court records, especially the probate court.  She was looking up old probated wills from her family and asked me if she would like the wills from my mother and her father which I said I would.

Before I go on I should give some back story first.  Back in 1987 I was watching television and caught the news out of Columbus Ohio.  I believe it was Columbus although it just as easily could have been Detroit.  Where the news came from matters not, its one story during that broadcast that is important, at least it was to me at the time.  This story was about the Zimmer power plant that had been built in Cincinnati Ohio.  This was a joint project between Dayton Power and Light and a power company in Kentucky though honestly I couldn’t tell you its name.  Zimmer, the nuclear power plant, didn’t pass NRC regulations and was unsafe and would not be allowed to go on line.  It was a new power plant and had cost 9 billion dollars which the two companies had financed jointly.  DPL (Dayton Power and Light) was going to stop paying dividends and the price of the stock began to drop finally reaching almost 10 dollars a share.  It’s a power company so I knew that it would keep making money and as soon as the debt was paid it would start paying dividends again and the price would go back up.  I owned 538 or so shares of Centerior at the time and felt that I could easily sell two hundred of those shares and turn around and pick up three hundred of so shares of DPL.  I thought I was a good trade.  I decided to phone Dad and ask him to which he responded, in so many words, that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and I should leave my Centerior stock alone.

It was silly actually, calling to ask permission to sell stock that I owned.  In the long term he would be right, I didn’t know what I was doing as I would later piss the whole 538 shares away on an ill-conceived business idea.  To this day I don’t know why I would sell the stock to open up a tea room but not sell it to increase my portfolio.  There is definitely a sign of fractured logic there.

Back to Meta and her investigation of her family history.  She did eventually bring both my Grandfather’s will and my Mother’s will.  Grandfather’s will was extensive.  On the other hand Mom’s will was smaller. You see mom bought stock in round lots, increments of 100 shares, then she would enroll in the companies dividend reinvestment program.  So her stock was single entry with some odd number behind it, like Centerior 937 shares or Pepsi co. 549 shares or Pfizer 1293 shares, but one entry stood out.  It struck me like a hand across the cheek.  That entry was Dayton Power and Light 1000 shares at$10.66 a share.  Maybe dad told her about the phone call he had gotten from me and she bought it or maybe she saw the same or a similar news story and bought it because she knew it was a good investment.  DPL wouldn’t come around until a year or two or maybe even three after she died but it did come around.  It doesn’t matter whether the idea came from me directly or if she saw a similar or even the same story on the news.  Its says the same thing about the decision that I didn’t have the spine to make for myself, what it said was that I had a good idea.  That I would have been right to follow that course, that I am not an idiot and that I do know what I am doing, sometimes.  The startling thing is how I got the message.

If I had no recollection of the event itself then I would have never received the message.  The messages delivery depended entirely on my own memory.  I could be receiving these messages everyday and not know it because I don’t remember the important events that would allow the message to make sense.  You to could be experiencing the same thing yourself but lack the memory to hear.  By the good will of the divine keep those memories a live.  They to may contain important components of messages from the dead, messages many of us have yet to receive.

Doomsayers, The end of the world and the National Security State

People sure are acting wacked out lately.

Is it the end times?

I shake my magic eight ball…signs say maybe.  Tsk, tsk, not good.

So how will it all come to an end?

Planet killer asteroid (Don’t you love that, like just plain asteroid isn’t enough, its needs to be extra special),  Iran finally tests nuclear missile and accidentally blows self up sparking thermonuclear war?  Okay, that’s too much, lets just say nuclear war.  How about a global oven or a world wide ice box…how do you dress for something like that?  Super plague or alien invasion?  Economic and/or Enviormental collapse, possibly a diluation of crop diversity due to over use of GM seed?  Posioned flu shots?  Too much flourine in the water?  Reactor melt down…hell governmental meltdown, either would be severe.  Killer nano bots, supersoldiers, mutants, zombies, RFID chips, really the list goes on and on.  We could probably turn it into a parlor game.  People have been worrying over and predicting the end of the world since they figured out they could make such prophecies.

There is a lot of fear out there but then I think there always is, I remember back in college when the big deal was then polar shift and there was some talk then about global warming.  I went to college in the early 80s.  I think uncertainty and insecurity are greater causes of fear than most anything else except the fear of loss.  Loss of someone or something that is more than important to you but is an intergral part of your life.  As I look back over my short meager existance I begin to realize that the world I live in today looks almost nothing like the world in which I dwelt before 1988.  Lost a lot of family over the ten years before culminating with the death of my mother.  The family that remained and the relationships that were once so rich quickly decayed.  My brothers and father no longer even seemed to be the same people.

Houses and apartments I rented are gone, stores I frequented have vanished, friends whom claimed undying love and loyalty disappeared far back along the horizon.  It is in its own way the very nature of our fragile ever changing world.  We people, I think, like to think of the world as a stable static place and work hard to maintain that frame of reference in our minds.  So when something horrible happens it is a shock, regardless of how often it has happened in the past, we continued the struggle to gleen those horrific images and feelings from our minds and go on as though those risks don’t exist.  This is where we find ourselves trapped.  Every night when we go to bed, a world dies and when we awake in the morning we come to, in a new world.  True the differences may be slight or subtle but over time the changes can be profound until finally we, those of us who survive, say, where did all that time go?  I was twenty just yesterday, when did all this happen?  60, I can’t believe I’m 60, I never thought I’d live this long.

Being human means being vulnerable.

I would love to believe that there is some type of a fix that would remove those moments that bring so many terrible emotional pain but there isn’t.  I know this myself, several times over.  The world is uncertain, life is short, bad frightening things happen, we have little power to influence the reality in which we live…all of this is true.  So what to do?

Make your home sacred space and bring not the darkness from the outside in when you pass through the door.

Find more joy and ways to express it, even if it is something a simple as a party or as complicated as pursuing the arts.

Don’t be afraid to be different.

Don’t worry about what other people are thinking.

Be prepared to trust with the understanding that there in lies risk.

Finally, remember, you never know when the words you speak will be the last words.  Either your last words or the last words any given person might hear.  If you truly care about a person then make as many words as you can good words.  hesitate before you react emotionally.  Tell them you love them and understand that it isn’t for them that you express this, but for yourself.

Who am I?

It seems like such a simple question. I graduated highschool when I was 17 and started college the next fall have just turned 18 and although I didn’t know where my life would lead, most certainly I knew I was Somebody. It only took a string of deaths in my family, the last from that time being my mother, being chiseled out of my inheritance by a well-meaning father and a slow burning crash of a mental break out of college and down while working at McDonald’s before I realized that A I was a paranoid schizophrenic alone in the world and a nobody. By then I was an ancient 24 turning 25. The world I once lived in was gone, a catastrophe that on the personal level is only matched by a nuclear weapon. I was broken and I didn’t have all the pieces so I spent from then until now trying to resemble what was left, this next summer I will turn 48 and it has been a long haul and I have learned who I am and now I am going to tell you.

I am here and there, behind and underfoot, all around and no where,

I am the person you speak of in the third person while I am standing beside you,

I am the one the disappears and no one notices,

I know I existed before but for the longest time I thought I was a figment of my wifes imagination

I am the lost cause, the waste of space, the problem, the fifth column, the unwashed, the enemy at home,

I am the one who waits your tables, cleans your toilets, shovels your shit, moves your lawn,

I live around the corner, down the street, on the wrong side of the tracks or across the hall.

I am the soft touch, the pigeon, the mark, the easy sale, the gravy train, the free couch,

I am the smiling face that holds the door open for you, or reaches where you can not,

I am the person that does the good deed with full knowledge of the punishment to follow for if there is no risk then it is not truly a good deed,

I am the giant that cast no shadow, the face in the crowd, the silent witness, the hushed voice, the word that cannot be spoken, the name that will not pass your lips,

I am the expendable, the unnecessary, the mouse that flees the foot step the fear of being noticed for if I am

Then I am the suspect in custody, the bad egg, the burden on society, the reason most commonly given

I am the beaten, the bloodied, the broken, the slave who will not knee,

I have stood eye to eye with the devil and I did not step back

I have faced my death twice with my eyes open,

I know fear,

I am the statistical anomaly, the 65% who earn one penny on every dollar, the undone wrong, the uncommitted sin, the stain that cannot be removed

I am the one who give up his place in the line to anyone who needs it, I am patience,

I am the true believer and the atheist, the skeptic and the devotee, the teacher and the student,

I am the calculating savage psychopath who cares because I chose to

I am light on the darkest of nights, I know the way through the abyss

I am invisible, there is power in not being seen

I will have no tombstone, my passing will only be noted amongst the numbers of the dead and the dying,

I am the shadow that steals your breath, the foot fall the causes hesitation, the chill that makes your hair stand on end

I see the humanity in everyone and the animal we often confuse for it

I am the calm voice between the police and the protesters, I am the quiet in the middle of the mayhem

I am the key to the gate that holds back the screaming madness

I am the sentinel, cold stone and hot blood that stands between the city and the massing uncertainty

I am the worst case scenario, the ground that cannot be held, the highest probability of failure, the inscrutable who lays his cards on the table,

I am the lone wolf, the cat in heat, the rabid dog, the chipmunk and the dragon who will not sit in judgement

I am the hesitation after the blow, the second chance,

I am the hidden dancer that only the purest of hearts can appreciate

I have been, am and will be, the ever open eye, the undefended ear, I see, I listen I remember, I know

And I have learned that every person sees and hears the world differently, that chaos comes when we insulate ourselves from that fact

I am waiting, my time is coming, our time is coming, there will be no blood, no bullets, for we will be the ones left, the last ones standing, the survivors

we will inherit

Are you one of us?

If you have to think about it then the answer is NO.